


Two A.M.

by thepopeisdope



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Bottom Dean, M/M, Omega Dean, Pack Dynamics, Porn with Feelings, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 18:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15516150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepopeisdope/pseuds/thepopeisdope
Summary: Dean comes to Cas with a problem. Cas offers a solution.





	Two A.M.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NavajoLovesDestiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NavajoLovesDestiel/gifts).



> Hello, friends!
> 
> This fic was written as a commission for [navajolovesdestiel](https://navajolovesdestiel.tumblr.com/), who requested a smutty fic with alpha!Cas saving omega!Dean. I took a bit of an interpretive spin on it, but I hope you like it anyway. ^_^
> 
> And of course, this commission is being done in support of the [DeanCas Anthology](https://deancasanthology.tumblr.com/), which is an incredible project filled with work from incredible authors and artists. The indiegogo campaign has ended, but check out the anthology's page anyway if you haven't already? 
> 
> Cross-posted to tumblr [here](http://thursdays-fallen-angel.tumblr.com/post/176498038995/two-am).
> 
> Enjoy. <3

It’s just after two in the morning when someone knocks on Castiel’s bedroom window.

He can’t say he’s pleased with the development, but he resists the urge to growl in annoyance and slides out of bed to investigate. He lives in the middle of a reasonably nice neighborhood, and though his family is known, they aren’t the type to have enemies—so in short, he isn’t too concerned about his late-night knocker being a threat.

His lack of concern is validated as soon as he pulls back the curtain and sees Dean’s sheepish grin on the opposite side of the glass. He still isn’t thrilled to have been woken up, but the alpha finds himself suppressing a smile as he shoulders open the window. As soon as the panel has been raised enough, Dean slips himself through the space and into the bedroom.

“I _do_ have a front door, you know,” Castiel says, pulling the window back closed now that Dean has been admitted. Once it’s latched, he turns to the omega with a faux stern expression. “I know you think it’s fun to scale the side of my house, but my doorbell is fully functional. And you could always, I don’t know…” He knuckles at his eyes, still heavy from sleep, then makes a helpless gesture. “Call me? If there’s an emergency?”

“Yeah, uh… Sorry.” Dean rubs the back of his neck, the remainder of his grin fading away. “I know it’s late. I just. Wanted to do this in person, I guess.”

And just like that, any potential levity is gone from the situation. The somber note to Dean’s scent washes over Castiel like a bucket of cold water, and suddenly, his lost sleep is the last thing on his mind.

“You wanted to do _what_ in person?”

Dean’s throat clicks when he swallows, and his eyes drop to the floor. It makes Castiel anxious, but he waits patiently for an explanation nonetheless.

“I need to ask you a favor,” Dean eventually says. The words seem pained, like he’s struggling to find the courage to speak them. “A big one. You have to know that I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Castiel takes a half step forward, watching every line of Dean’s face as he continues to try to assess the situation that is being thrown at him. In all the years he has known Dean Winchester—in all the years he has _loved_ Dean Winchester, and there have been quite a lot of them—he has never seen the omega act like this. His friend is always happy, carefree; nothing that has him exuding such panic and stress can be anywhere near good.

“Anything,” he says back, as gently as he can manage. “I will do anything you need, Dean, you know that.”

Dean nods, more to himself than to Castiel, and finally raises his eyes back up to the alpha’s. He takes a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. “I need you to look after Sammy. I have to leave the pack and I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back, so I need to know that he’s gonna be alright. You’re the only person I trust with him.”

Castiel is quiet while he processes it. So quiet, in fact, that the silence of the room roars in his ears. It takes him far too long to regain the ability to speak, and when he does, his tongue is like cotton in his mouth.

It’s the middle of the damn night, and Castiel’s world as he knows it is fracturing.

“You’re leaving the pack?”

Dean winces, shoulders hunching against the question. “Don’t have much choice.”

 _Bullshit_. “Why?”

Although his stance doesn’t change—and lord, he manages to look so _small_ , while he’s curling in on himself as he is—Dean’s upper lip curls into a snarl. “Because I _don’t_ , so just trust me on that, alright? I wouldn’t leave if I had any other options, but Dad made sure that—”

“Your father?” Castiel advances another step, rage pulsing through him at the thought. “What did he do? Why could you possibly have to leave? If someone is coming after you—”

“Jesus, Cas, he wants me to mate with someone!”

Castiel blinks, stunned into silence.

That would mean… But Dean couldn’t possibly…

“Who?”

Dean huffs and turns away. “Some… knothead, I don’t know. Few packs south. Alistair something-or-other, think Dad said? Not that it fuckin’ matters, because I’m not doing it anyway. That’s why I’m leaving, remember?”

He does, unfortunately.

Is it normal for a person to be able to _taste_ their own heartbeat? Because with his panic as strong as it is, Castiel is fairly certain that he can do just that.

“There has to be another way,” he blurts. He knows that isn’t what Dean wants to hear, but god, _he_ needs it to be true. “Don’t leave the pack. If your father wants you to mate, then just—just mate with someone else. Someone _here_ , so you don’t have to go anywhere.”

Dean scoffs, and when he turns back to face Castiel, his eyes are red-rimmed. “And how do you expect that to work, huh? I throw myself at some random alpha and hope it goes better than the random alpha I’m already supposed to get? And I take _their_ chance of happiness away at the same time? Because if I was someone’s first choice, they’d have made that clear by now—”

“Except that I didn’t.” The sentence is blurted out before Castiel can fully consider its implications, but he pushes forward anyway, seizing his burst of confidence. He reaches out and grabs Dean’s shoulders, holding him steady. “Let me be your mate, Dean. You won’t have to leave, you can continue to look after Sam yourself, and there’s nothing your father can—”

“ _Cas_.” Dean surges forward, and between one heartbeat and the next, Castiel finds himself shoved against the nearest wall, the omega pressed all along his front. Dean slides a palm along the side of Castiel’s jaw, pulls on his hair, _kisses him_ —it takes Castiel longer than he will ever admit to catch up, but given how fast it all happens, he doesn’t think he can be blamed.

He was going to consider himself lucky to have his offer _considered_ , but this undeniable approval he has received instead? Castiel feels like it is nothing short of a miracle.

Once he accepts this new advancement for what it is, he’s quick to get with the program, and doesn’t let a single second go to waste. Dean only has control of the kiss for a handful of moments before Castiel takes it for himself, tangling his fingers in the omega’s hair and using the grip to keep him right where he wants him.

He may not have expected events to go this direction when Dean first woke him up, but given how long he’s spent _thinking_ about kissing his best friend, Castiel certainly knows what to do with the opportunity now that it has been presented.

And of course, that means he’s going to seize this chance for all it’s worth.

Castiel flips their positions to push Dean up against the wall, and though he does take advantage of the angle to lick his way into Dean’s mouth, he also knows that there is at least one thing that needs to be established before they go any further.

Dean’s decision to kiss him was probably answer enough, but… Better safe than sorry.

“Dean.” Castiel crushes their mouths together one more time, then settles for rubbing their noses together, nuzzling into Dean. “Will you be my mate?”

Dean scoffs; Castiel gives him the courtesy of pretending not to notice how close it comes to sounding like a sob. “Cas, I’d be your mate even if I wasn’t in this mess. D’you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?”

“I think I might have some idea,” Castiel answers with a huff of amusement. Because now, finally—he thinks he might get it. Why they’ve always been so close, why neither of them has pursued other potential mates.

Before he can get too sappy about it, however, Dean hooks his fingers into the waistband of Castiel’s sleep pants to haul their hips together, and all it takes is a little bit of friction against his budding arousal for the alpha to forget how to think. He moans at the feeling of it, then Dean’s lips are on his ear, and the rest of the world ceases to exist altogether.

“You gonna claim me as your own, then, before someone else does?”

Castiel growls low in his throat, responding just as Dean intended, if the omega’s excited grin is anything to go by. Castiel doesn’t mind letting him have his victory, though, because the next thing he does is lift Dean up by his hips and toss him onto the bed, making it clear that there’s no need for any more teasing.

Dean scrambles to keep himself oriented upright as he bounces against the mattress, his eyes comically wide. “ _Jesus_ , you don’t fuck around,” he says, which only makes Castiel laugh as he chases after him. Once they meet again in the center of the bed, they tangle together easily, Castiel slotting in between Dean’s thighs like he belongs there and Dean’s arms wrapping around Castiel’s shoulders like they were made to hold nothing else.

They trade messy, frantic kisses while they shed their clothes (an exercise which requires an incredible amount of patience which neither of them truly possesses, considering their efforts to undress without letting go of one another mostly results in tangling them up further), and rut against one another until they are finally, gloriously bare.

Once they’re skin to skin, Dean hooks a leg up around Castiel’s waist and digs his heel into the base of the alpha’s spine, making it clear what he wants to happen next. Castiel moves his hips accordingly, grinding his cock into Dean’s, but despite how much he also wants to jump to the main event, he isn’t so foolish as to actually do just that.

There is a phantom weight hanging over them, ensuring that the importance of this hasty mating cannot be forgotten—it is a _now or never_ in the most crucial sense—but despite that, there is too much between them for it to be rushed. They have known one another for too long, been friends since they were scarcely more than pups; treating their mating like a duty to be completed would be a disservice to all it _could_ be.

Plus, their first time together will only happen once. Best to do it right.

Dean whines in disapproval when Castiel slides away from him, but the alpha just hushes him, a soothing hand brushing down his side. Despite the objection, he knows Dean is going to like what he has planned.

Still, once he’s hovering over Dean’s middle, Castiel cannot help but look up through his lashes and tease, “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

Dean shifts his hips and grumbles, knuckles going white as he grabs at the sheets beneath him, “Yeah, you’re supposed to just— _oh fuck me_.”

As it turns out, having a set of lips wrap around Dean’s cock is an effective method of stopping his complaining. The victory would make Castiel smirk, if his mouth weren’t otherwise occupied.

Castiel bobs his head a few times, getting a feel for the weight of Dean’s arousal on his tongue, then sets about pleasuring him in earnest. Dean writhes and moans beneath him, babbling out praise and pleas for more—and if it’s more he wants, why should Castiel do anything but deliver?

Without breaking his stride, Castiel shifts his positioning to free up one of his hands, then starts circling his first two fingers through the slick that is leaking from the omega’s entrance. Dean’s breath hitches, his hips cant upward, and that’s all the invitation Castiel needs to sink both fingers into him.

“ _Jesus_ , Cas, you fuckin’—” Dean keens in pleasure, the sound high in his throat and one of the most wonderful Castiel has ever heard. His fingers scrabble across the sheets for a few moments before relocating into Castiel’s hair. “C’mon, c’mon, your fingers are good, but I need _more_.”

Castiel hums, and just when Dean moans at the feeling of it reverberating through his cock, the alpha begins moving his fingers. He fucks Dean slowly at first, leisurely, but no matter how much he enjoys making Dean moan, he does have an objective. He steadily stretches Dean open, two fingers soon becoming three, until he’s finally satisfied with his work. By then, Dean is a trembling mess beneath him, dancing on the precipice of an orgasm; Castiel finally releases his cock from his mouth and purrs in delight.

“Still think I’m doing something wrong?”

Dean looks dazed as he shakes his head, then answers by pulling Castiel forward into a kiss. Castiel groans into it and falls right back into the position he was in previously, heavy between Dean’s spread thighs. He’s been more focused on Dean’s pleasure than his own until this point, but the scent of the omega’s slick is heavy in the air, and with Dean’s cock wet with saliva, the urge for Castiel to rut against him is too strong to resist.

Thankfully, Dean seems to understand what he is struggling with. He lets his legs fall open a little bit wider in invitation and hooks his ankles back around Castiel’s waist. “I’m ready. Do it.”

Castiel stalls, his hips stilling. “I don’t have a condom—”

Dean’s heels dig in more insistently. “Don’t need one. I wanna feel you. Now, you gonna mate me, or not?”

Castiel’s only answer is a muted growl; it was a stupid question, anyway.

He shifts back a few inches, aligns his cock with Dean’s entrance, then slides into him in a single, smooth thrust. They moan in stereo at the feel of it, tight and hot and perfect, and after a few necessary moments of adjustment, Castiel begins to move. He tries to set a uniform rhythm at first, aiming for deep, rolling thrusts, but he’s far too pent-up to maintain it for long. It quickly turns erratic. Desperate.

No matter how uncoordinated it becomes, though, Dean rolls his hips up to meet every thrust, his fingernails scraping along Castiel’s back and a high-pitched whine never leaving the back of his throat. His eyes spark with flashes of omega gold, and every line of his face is etched with pleasure.

In short, he is the most beautiful thing Castiel has ever seen.

It doesn’t take much longer for Dean to be pushed over the edge he has already been so close to. He comes with a punched-out gasp, his cock spilling between them and his muscles tightening—and Castiel, too, is lost. He manages to make a few more harried thrusts before his knot swells and locks them together completely. While they’re both at the height of their pleasure, Castiel drops forward and sinks his teeth into the tender skin at the base of Dean’s neck, solidifying their mating for what it is.

Permanent. Unable to be tampered with by any force, even John Winchester’s.

Once the mark has been made, Dean hums in approval. He watches Castiel through half-closed eyes, too blissed out for anything more, and idly dances his fingers across the alpha’s shoulders. “Always knew you’d be a good lay,” he says warmly. He stifles a yawn, then adds, “Thank you. For this.”

Castiel presses their foreheads together, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “Are you really thanking me for good sex? Because if so, you are definitely welcome.”

Although Dean chuckles, there’s a seriousness in his eyes which sobers Castiel.

“That too, but I meant more… thanks for not letting me leave. Thank you for saving me from that.”

“Oh.” There’s a lump in Castiel’s throat, and he swallows hard against it. He covers the burst of emotion by nuzzling into Dean’s hair, hiding his face in the process. “I will always save you, Dean. You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Dean huffs, but instead of pushing the matter, he simply turns and curls himself into Castiel’s chest. It’s fair, Castiel thinks; there will be plenty of other opportunities to talk about sappy subjects later. For the rest of their lives, in fact.

Then Dean grumbles against Castiel’s skin, “Hope you know that you’re going with me to tell my dad.”

Castiel groans. “Let’s talk about that when it’s _not_ four in the morning, love.”

He can feel Dean’s answering smile against his skin. It’s a heady, intoxicating thing.

“Sure thing, babe.”

Castiel adjusts them so that they can be a bit more comfortable while his knot has them locked together and pulls the blankets up around their tangled limbs as best he can. They settle in, comfortably exhausted by their mating. Through the window, the sun is just beginning to lighten the horizon.

It is the start of a new day, in more ways than one.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://thursdays-fallen-angel.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
